"Good bye, mom", I plant a light kiss on her forehead and pick up my bag.

"Good bye sweet heart. Will you be back in time for the bible study this evening?" She asks immediately and I roll my eyes.

Great!

"No, I think I'll pass."

"It's the first one in the month. You won't have to attend the rest." She prods and I wish she'll just drop it.

"Look mom, I'm very busy. I'm sorry I can't make it." I hurriedely spew before I notice from the way she looks at me that she is disappointed; again.

"Okay, but go with God." I cringe a little at that and roll my eyes.

To be honest, I believe God left our lives long ago.

I don't say this out loud to my mom though, because I know how high she holds that guy and I don't want to burst her bubble.
I just don't buy it anymore.

With a fake smile, I just nod and head for the door.

Swinging my keys in my hand, I jog down the marble steps that lead out of our house and stride swiftly toward my BMW parked in the garage.

Once in the car, I fling my leather bag on the passenger seat and turn the ignition.

The car gears into life and I turn the steering wheel backing out of the garage through the gates and onto the road.

Humph, Go with God.

Just look at all I've been able to accomplish, and alone.

Who got her that beautiful house she lives in? God?

While she was busy depending on God, dad died.

While she was busy depending on God, I had to apply for a scholarship to enter the school of my dreams because she couldn't pay the fees.

How dare he try to take all the credit when he has done nothing to help.
All these years I've slaved night and day in order to make a fortune and he did nothing to lift the burden. Nothing.

He just sat in his comfortable throne and had a good laugh.

The warm salty liquid escapes my eyes and trickles down to my lips and I wipe it angrily away with the back of my free palm.

Gosh, thinking about him just makes me want to scream and break something.

After a few minutes, the hospital building  gradually winds into view.

Inside the parking lot, I navigate the car to the executive parking lot, the security officer on duty politely tilting his hat as I drive through.

As I approach the glass doors leading into the hospital, the security officer offers to carry my bags and pushes open the doors for me.
Immediately, I am met by my secretary; a rather timid girl I must say, who clearly hasn't had a very wide working experience, holding a lot of paper work which I suspect is for me to sign.

"Good mornng Ma'am." I just nod without answering.

"There was a couple that arrived last night and they have a surgery due tomorrow.
There is also a lady who said she has an appointment with you today by 10:00am. 
Are you aware of that ma'am?"

"What's her name?" I continue walking, keeping my eyes trained before me as she tags along.

"She calls herself a Mrs. Granely." After a few seconds, the name actually rings a bell.

"Okay, I do remember now. Send her up to my office immediately. How many appointments do I have today."

"Precisely nine ma'am."

"Any other surprise ones? "

"No ma'am. Mrs Granely's the only one. "

"Don't let anybody in except he or she has an appointment. If you must, ring me.
I don't want any unnecessary disturbances."

"Yes ma'am." With that, I take my bags from the security officer who was tagging behind the whole time and head for the elevator leading to my office.

                        ※※

"Good morning Mr. Stanford." I give my best smile while beckoning for him to sit before me.

"Good morning, Doctor, it's  a beautiful day today."

"Indeed it is. Have a seat will you?"

"Thank you."

After a long pause, I finally speak up.

"So, have you made your decision yet?"

I could see the wrinkles on his forehead and the grey bags which seem to have formed very recently.
Suddenly, I feel so much pity for him.
"Yes. "

"What is it. "

"I wouldn't have the surgery. I don't have enough money to foot the bill and you and your crew are not even sure I would make it!
What if I spend all that money which I would most probably borrow, and still die?
Look, Doctor, I have so much to live for, the members in church, my little granddaughter, oh the sweet child, the widowers group,.....so much.
I would rather spend the rest of my life, even if  just months, with these people than forever confined to a hospital bed, not knowing if I'd die the next day.
I also have God to see me through, so I can't afford to take that risk. "

For a brief moment, I just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Then it's like I find my tongue.

"Um....., okay but I'd appreciate if you don't bring God into this."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't want to believe that he'd watch you get to this point in your life and do nothing about it.
That's why I stay away from all that God thing.
It's too much of a head ache." I say, my eyes not meeting his.

"Are you happy, Miss Solana?"

What?

"What? " My head is still down and my eyes glued to the papers on my desk.

I couldn't help my outburst, it was like I had just been hurled a giant snowball from a unknown source.

"I said, are you happy?" Concern glinting in his eyes.

Adjusting my suit jacket and clearing my throat, I raize my gaze to his.

"Y... Yes, I am." I reply now shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
It's not about the cozines because this seat is one of the coziest in this hospital.

"How do you know that?"He prods further.

He seems very comfortable making me uncomfortable because I can't  detect any emotions on his face.
What is wrong with these people?

"Um, I have everything I ever wanted and I have achieved all my dreams." I answer hurriedely wishing he'd stop the interrogation.
Right now, my eyes are darting from place to place looking for a way out and I am beginning to feel really hot even in this air conditioned office.
He must have noticed my discomfort.

"I'm sorry, if I caught you off guard, I...."

That's it, you've crossed the line mister.

"Excuse me, you didn't catch me off guard, and I really don't fancy your meddling into my private life.
You can come back anytime, if you change your mind about the surgery.
So, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients waiting."

He tries to apologize, but I cut him off, clearly showing my anger and he pushes back the chair and in one swift motion, leaves the office.

Now, I feel guilty. 

I look at the door through which Mr. Stanford just left.

"It's not my fault, he shouldn't have gone that deep." I say to myself.

There's no way you can justify yourself. You were acting too insecure.

"No, I wasn't acting insecure."

Great, now I'm talking to myself, again.

I throw my hands up and let them land on top of my head.

What is wrong with me.

Then a knock on the door reminds me that I'm still in my office and not at home.

Only eight more appointments to go.